


Rescue

by LostInWonder



Category: Walking Dead, Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Rape Aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-26
Updated: 2013-12-26
Packaged: 2018-01-06 05:57:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1103232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostInWonder/pseuds/LostInWonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane goes to retrieve Daryl from a group of violent thugs who are holding him hostage</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rescue

**Author's Note:**

> from a prompt on twdkinkmeme calling for Shane helping Daryl through a pretty fucked up situation

Shane approached the meeting spot carefully on foot, taking care to stay hidden. It was a hardware store on the side of the highway, separate from any other structures. He'd left his vehicle behind a ways. They couldn't have any indication that he had arrived. He entered the ransacked building and found his way up to the roof. Once there, he positioned himself near the edge, like a sniper, and watched the area through the scope of his rifle, and waited.

Rick wanted to come along but Lori had flat out forbidden Rick to go off and risk his life _again_ , and Carl had joined in the mix this time, with tears and everything. In the end, Shane insisted that he had to do this alone. Because this mission was just plain crazy, and he didn't have a wife and child to leave behind. And he felt like he was the only one who had a chance of pulling it off.

A trade of arms, food, and medical supplies for Daryl. Only thing was , they didn't have any of the things they had promised in an attempt to reason with the men who had ambushed them, and they had no way of acquiring them in time for the trade. It was the only way out of a desperate situation. They originally insisted on being taken back to the group but Shane had reasoned them down to letting them go and _bring_ them supplies, at no risk to them. He had offered them himself as a hostage, but the leader had wanted Glenn instead. And Daryl, never one to know when to keep his mouth shut, had called him a pussy for wanting to hold onto the weakest member. "What's wrong ? You ain't got the balls to take on one of your own kind?"

Shane had also recognized their Nazi tats. Playing on their racism worked. One of the other guys, he guessed the leader's second, said "Let's keep the mouthy one, he's gotta be more valuable to them than that skinny chink." And that was that. They decided it had to be Daryl.

The whole scenario had given Shane the creeps. These were hardened criminals. He had no doubt they were killers. But the way the lead man had looked at Glenn gave him a chill. He had no idea if Daryl would be alive when he came back, but he figured he'd be better off than Glenn would've been. Daryl had probably grown up around people like this, if Merle was any indicator. He'd know how to handle himself. And since Daryl had saved _his_ life right before it all happened, he had to go back for him. He owed him.

A black pick-up truck pulled up. There was a body bag in the flatbed. Jesus Christ, Shane thought. What the fuck was going on ?

The truck had a crew cab. So four guys, and Daryl in the bodybag, he was thinking, his chest starting to constrict with rage. After a second he saw the bag move and breathed a sigh of relief.

Two men got out of the back seats and headed towards the entrance. They were a lot earlier than the planned-on time, too. So Shane had been right, this wasn't going to have been an easy trade in the first place.

He waited at the door to the rooftop, his knife in hand. It had to be silent. He'd never killed a live person before but he didn't have a choice. They were no better than walkers, he thought, predators that were nothing but a danger to others. And hopefully as easy to put down.

The door opened. The man came through carefully and Shane let him fully in before he pounced, wrapping one arm around the man's chest and dragging his blade across the man's throat with the other. He was barely able to make a sound from his ruined windpipe. Shane felt the warm blood spilling over his arms. The other man had been too close behind him. He was starting to yell and raise his weapon. Fuck. Without thought, Shane hurled the dying man at him and drew his own sidearm, no time to ready the rifle hanging off his back.

But he couldn't shoot, not now, it would tip off the other two men below. Instead, he smashed his pistol into the side of the man's head , while he struggled to throw off his bleeding companion. The dude didn't drop right away. He shoved the barrel of his AR15 into Shane's gut savagely while he fumbled to get his finger back on the trigger.

With panicked strength, Shane twisted his body off the hard metal, grabbing the barrel and headbutting the man viciously. He took advantage of the shock to drive the knife he now held in his off hand through the man's throat. He let his pistol drop and yanked the rifle out of man's weakening grasp, letting him slip to the ground, grasping his neck in a futile attempt to stop the inevitable.

Shane was only dimly aware that killing these two men hadn't phased him nearly as much as he would have thought it should have. He moved towards the front of the roof, scanning the surrounding area through the scope of the dead man's rifle. Satisfied that there were no others in sight, he peered down at the waiting truck. He recognized the guy getting out of the passenger side as the prick who had called Daryl mouthy and urged them to keep him instead of Glenn. He watched him climb into the flatbed and unzip the body bag.

The man pulled Daryl's upper body out by his shirt front. It looked like his arms were secured behind his back. Shane's gut tightened at the sight of Daryl's face. He was beaten pretty bad, his left eye was blackened and swollen, his lips were puffed up and encrusted with blood. Another purplish swelling to his left cheek. He was limp in the man's grasp and Shane wasn't even sure he was conscious until he watched his mouth working and saw him spit feebly in his captor's face. Before the man was able to land a blow in return, Shane impulsively pulled the trigger. The man dropped like a stone, a hole blown through the side of his head.

He focused on the remaining man, knowing he had just left Daryl in danger of being used as a human shield. He shot into the front seat, trying to drive the man out. It worked, but then he disappeared behind the side of the truck, taking cover. Daryl had worked himself all the way out of the bag and rolled out of the open gate of the flatbed. His legs were bound as well. Shane watched him roll under the truck, out of the line of fire.

Shane just couldn't get a shot on this guy from the rooftop if he was going to stay covered. He was going to have to engage him head on. He raced down the stairs, hoping he'd still be able to get Daryl out of this alive. He sure as hell wasn't going to be able to help himself all trussed up like that.

By the time he got out the front entrance, the truck was squealing away and Daryl was lying on his side in the dirt, his chest heaving, his eyes wide with disbelief as he looked up and recognized Shane.

Shane was down on the ground next to him instantly. "Reckon we're even now, huh?" Shane said breathlessly, grinning with relief, slicing through the bindings on his wrists and ankles.

Daryl lay still where he was after he was freed, not responding at all. Shane went to wrap an arm around his waist to get him to sit up. He was concerned that Daryl might be more injured than he looked. But at the contact, Daryl shrugged his whole body away, sitting up on his own then getting to his feet. He swayed a little and Shane instantly moved to grab his shoulder and steady him. He gripped his chin with his other hand and tried to force his head up enough to check his eyes for any signs of concussion, but Daryl wasn't having it.

"Get offa me," he snarled, forcing himself away roughly. Shane noticed for the first time the bruises on his neck. They looked like choke wounds.

"I'll be back, I'm goin' back up to grab their weapons." Shane said. He left Daryl standing unsteadily while he went back to the rooftop. He took the first guy's rifle and his extra magazine, and his pistol. The second guy he'd killed was wearing Daryl's buck knife on his belt. Shane undid the belt and slid the sheath off. They didn't have anything else worth taking. Out of the corner of his eye he thought he caught movement from the first man whose throat he'd slit. He ignored it and headed off the roof. If he wasn't dead yet, he would be soon enough.

When he got back down to Daryl, he had already started up the road, moving in the direction they'd been heading when they'd been captured. He was walking unsteadily and seemed to be forcing a faster pace than he could manage. Shane caught up to him fast.

"You ok, man? " Shane asked. "Anything broken?"

"Ain't the worst beatin' I ever had," he muttered dismissively. He kept moving, his eyes forward and on the ground.

"Jeep's just a ways up the road, " Shane said, keeping pace with him. "Here." He handed Daryl his knife back. Daryl snatched it out of his hand, not meeting his gaze, and held onto it as he kept walking.

Shane noticed he didn't have a belt to hang it on anymore. Then he saw that the button on his fly was missing, tore clean off, and the zipper wasn't all the way up. It had been pulled out of it's track. Daryl was pulling up his jeans with his spare hand every few feet with nothing to keep them in place. Shane felt a sense of dread flood his belly. As a cop he'd been trained to notice details, both physical and behavioral. He was getting a pretty good idea that what had happened to Daryl back there was more than just a beat down.

"How many more of them are there?" Shane asked, noticing Daryl was limping slightly, and hunching over a bit too. He didn't answer the question and Shane wasn't sure if he hadn't heard or was just ignoring him. "Hey," he said a little sharply to get his attention.

"Just a few," Daryl answered then, his voice muted. It looked like it was taking all his attention just to move forward. Shane was relieved to hear the group wasn't much of a threat now.

Once in the Jeep, Shane noticed something he hadn't before and it chilled him to the bone. The front of Daryl's shirt by the collar had a semi-dried stain on it that had the consistency of semen. And Daryl was having a hard time settling into the passenger seat. He was shifting uncomfortably, finally sitting half on one hip, leaning his torso towards the door. Shane knew now for sure he wouldn't be losing any sleep over those dead bastards.

 

Daryl made no attempt to talk as they drove. Shane started to rack his brain for anything he could remember on how to deal with rape victims, hardly able to believe that that was where this had gone. All of his training had dealt with females. It made him sick to his stomach, the thought of those men, men he had left Daryl with. He'd been with them for _hours_.

He thought to be practical first. He needed to hit a pharmacy. There was a little strip mall along the way so he took a detour. It was creeping him out the way Daryl was so lifeless, not even asking or looking up when he changed course and turned into the parking lot. He already saw a few shambling walkers on the other side of the mall. They'd have to be quick.

Shane jumped out, went around to the passenger side. "C'mon," Shane said urgently, when Daryl hadn't even moved. His eyes were vacant, unfocused. His body was shivering slightly, despite the heat.

"A'right," Shane said soothingly. "Here. Take this." He went to grab Daryl's hand to press one of the spare pistols into it. That roused him enough to snatch his hand away from the touch, clenching his fingers tightly around the pistol grip. "Just wait here."

The pharmacy was ransacked pretty well but there were some stray bottles of ibuprofen and antiseptic ointment. Behind the counter there were still some random bottles of antibiotics left. He grabbed bottles of antibacterial soap, too, the kind that didn't need water. He figured Daryl would want to get as clean as possible after that, and they might not get to a place where that would be possible.

There was a rack of discounted denim jackets towards the entrance. Shane grabbed one, so Daryl could cover his stained shirt. He thought for a second and grabbed one for himself, too, so it wouldn't draw attention to it.

He got outside and Daryl wasn't in the Jeep. He was moving towards the small knot of walkers that had started to converge on the other end of the strip. His buck knife was in his hand but he had no other weapon.

Dammit, he didn't need to be engaging them in close combat, Shane thought angrily. All he had to do was stay put.

Shane started the Jeep and crashed it into the grouping of walkers, knocking them down like bowling pins. It startled Daryl enough that he yelled indignantly, "The fuck are you doin' ?"

"Apparently savin' your ass _again_ ," Shane snapped in frustration. He winced inside at his poor choice of words the second they left his mouth. "C'mon, get in."

Daryl climbed back into the passenger seat, still careful of the way he settled into the seat , and Shane backed up and turned out. They were back on the county highway.

It was dawning on him that Daryl was obviously not in a position to make rational decisions at the moment. The Daryl he knew was capable and smart, despite his rough demeanor. He realized Daryl had needed to vent some of what he must be feeling, that the walkers provided something he could lash out on, but that had just been reckless, and stupid.

"So you wanna do a good supply run on the way to Fort Benning ? Try and stock up on more ammo ? " he asked conversationally. He knew one thing you were supposed to do was try and give the victim some control back, offer them a chance to make a decision about something. He also wanted to indicate to Daryl that he didn't suspect what had actually happened. He couldn't imagine a man like that would be able to handle anyone knowing. The kind of background he came from, he'd probably be thinking he was no better than a prison bitch now.

Daryl barely shrugged in response. His head was turned away, looking out at the desolate countryside.

The practical part of his brain wanted to make sure Daryl could stay functional, for the group's safety. His hunting skills were necessary. Another part felt protective all of a sudden, like seeing Daryl so messed up had switched on his better instincts, the ones that had made him able to comfort the victims he'd had to deal with as a cop.

He had seen Merle and Daryl as adversaries of a sort back at the quarry camp but Daryl on his own was different. Unlike Merle, he constantly put himself out for the group, never even making much of it when he did. Somehow between Merle being lost to now, Daryl had managed to fall into the "us" category in the "us versus them" mindset Shane couldn't help but hold onto.

"Then again, we might do better out in the country for a bit," Shane was starting to think out loud to himself. If Daryl wasn't going to respond at least he could try to keep him out of his own thoughts for a bit. "We could set up a base camp. Hunt for meat. Kind of like we did at the quarry, only this time we'll be smarter about it."

"How's that ?" Daryl asked listlessly. Shane was glad he'd responded at all.

"Set up a real perimeter. Make it more secure. So we can't just get overrun like before. "

"Til some motherfuckers try and take it," Daryl muttered darkly.

"Then they'll go down the way those motherfuckers back there did," Shane said gruffly. It wouldn't do to let Daryl sink into that kind of attitude, not now. Besides that, he had realized something about himself that he'd never had the chance to know for sure. He could kill pretty easily when he had to. It gave him a strange sense of calm, of power, to know that.

Daryl didn't respond, but he leaned his head back against the seat and closed his eyes. He was shivering again, even in the hot sun. Shane reached into the back seat and dragged the jacket out of the sack he'd filled at the pharmacy. He tossed it onto Daryl's lap. He felt like a dick when Daryl jumped at that.

"Grabbed a couple of these at the pharmacy. Figured you might want something with sleeves for once." He used a lighthearted tone, to cover the real reason for the jacket. He was relieved that he pulled it on before they got back to the group, still waiting on the highway. He decided that no one would find out about this, not even Rick, unless Daryl decided to tell them.

Of course everyone rushed them when they pulled up. He and Rick clasped hands reassuringly. Rick asked him what happened.

"There were four of them. One got away," Shane replied simply, enjoying the new found look of respect on Rick's face.

"We found a farmhouse off the road about a half-mile," Rick said. "There's a working well. Now that you're both back safe, we're gonna stay the night."

Glenn had come up to the passenger side. He was looking at Daryl's face with a little horror. "Jesus, are you ok ?" he asked, the concern in his voice obvious.

"M'fine," Daryl muttered gruffly, his eyes fixed on the dashboard.

"They kept your bike?" he asked then.

"You don't see me ridin' it , do ya?" Daryl snapped.

"I'm sorry, man. That took a lot of balls, what you did back there. I'm just...I'm sorry they messed you up so bad."

"Yeah, me too," Daryl said, his voice just sounding tired.

"Well, three of them are worm food now," Shane said. "And the rest will be too, if we run into them again."

"You really killed them ?" Glenn asked, a little incredulous.

"Are we gonna sit here playin' twenty questions or are we gonna go find that farm ?" Daryl snarled.

It made Glenn back away, hands up in surrender.

Shane followed the rest of the vehicles as they drove down a dirt road and came up on an older farmhouse. They had cleared the walkers out of the house and laid them out in a row in front. Everyone busied themselves pulling their vehicles behind the barn, then getting settled in the house, picking rooms, scavenging for food and supplies. Daryl stayed in the Jeep, slumped over sideways a little while Shane drove around the property, checking it out for himself.

He stopped in front of an old fashioned well, one that had a hand pump. He got out and started filling some of the empty water bottles he had saved. But he really just wanted Daryl to see where the water was, so he could wash up when he needed. All of his gear was gone, he didn't even have a change of clothing. That had to be tormenting him.

He handed him one of the bottles and Daryl used half of it to rinse his mouth, spitting it out on the ground viciously. He took the painkillers Shane handed him wordlessly and dry swallowed them. Then he downed the rest of the water and hurled the empty bottle against the metal pump in a sudden burst of anger. Shane took care to show no reaction.

They drove back to the house. Shane parked his car with the rest, out of sight behind the barn, so the place would look uninhabited. It seemed to take Daryl extra effort to get up after being seated for so long.

At the front door Daryl seemed reluctant to enter but Shane laid a hand on his shoulder and gently nudged him through the entrance, nonchalantly, like he was just shouldering past him himself.

"Is he ok ?" Dale asked Shane, as if Daryl wasn't even there. Probably because he looked so out of it at the moment, swaying near the doorway.

The question seemed to rouse Daryl enough to piss him off, though.

"Why you askin' _him_? I'm standin' right here."

"You look like you might have a concussion, that's all. Do you feel dizzy ? Are you having any vision problems?"

Daryl snorted his annoyance at the questioning. "You a doctor now?" he asked snidely. "I'm takin' me a bedroom. Don't none a' y'all come knockin'." Shane watched him climb the stairs resolutely. No one complained about his taking a room for himself.

"If he has a concussion, we can't let him sleep," Dale said with concern.

"He's fine, Dale," Shane said. "He's just a little...uh...shaken up."

Shane made a little bundle out of the soap and first-aid supplies he'd grabbed at the pharmacy. He headed up to the bedroom Daryl had taken and knocked softly, despite Daryl's warning. Instead of waiting for an answer , he opened the door just enough to toss the stuff through.

"More painkillers and shit, if you need," he called to him through the door.

They all sat in the living room, eating canned peas and jerky. They picked watch schedules. After a long pause, Rick thanked him for doing what had to be done. Glenn seconded that, and he saw the rest of them, even Dale, looking at him with a new respect, much like Rick had earlier. It felt good, he had to admit.

Before turning in, he checked in on Daryl one more time, again knocking without entering.

When he heard his gruff "M' tryin' to sleep," through the closed door, he was relieved enough to go and get some sleep himself.

He was on third watch, sitting on the porch roof of the house, when he heard the front door underneath him creak open. He saw Daryl walk off around the back. He figured he might be going to the well to clean his clothes off, now that he had some privacy with everyone else asleep. There hadn't been any extra men's clothing left in the house.

After a few minutes though, he heard a car starting up. Shane swore, hurrying back through the open window and through the dark house. By the time he reached the front porch, Daryl was speeding off in one of the cars left behind by whoever had been here before.

He ran to his Jeep and took off after him. Luckily there was only one long road off the property and Shane had his taillights in his sights in less than a minute. He had no idea what Daryl thought he was doing, but he wasn't going to let him go off on his own like this after all the worrying he'd done about him today, and all the risk he'd taken to get him back.

Daryl sped up as he realized he was being followed, and Shane suddenly felt like he was in one of those high-speed chases he'd seen on TV so many times but never got to experience. They went on like that for a while, until finally Daryl swerved off the road onto the shoulder. He was out of the car and storming over to Shane, already yelling. Shane got out of the Jeep in the middle of the road.

"What the fuck are you doin'? " Daryl shouted, "Why you followin' me?"

"Where are you goin' , man?" Shane asked, keeping his voice low and calm.

"I know where they're at," Daryl growled."I'm getting my shit back."

Jesus. From the looks of him he had been doing anything but sleeping, Shane realized. His eyes were wild. Bloodshot and a little watery.

"Daryl, you're not in any condition to do this right now. You're gonna go and get yourself killed."

"That ain't your concern," he snarled through his clenched jaw.

"Right now it is," Shane said firmly."You wanna go after them, you can't go off all half-cocked. Look at you, you can barely stand straight."

"I'm goin' after them. You keep followin' me I'ma run your ass off the road." He looked so grimly determined that Shane realized this wasn't going to go the way he'd wanted, unless he planned to handcuff Daryl to a tree like he'd done Jim.

He'd been brutally assaulted, and his only ties to who he'd been before were in the hands of the men who had done it. His brother's bike. His crossbow. Any gear, clothing, photos, or whatever the hell he kept in his knapsack. They weren't just material things that could be replaced. Those men had taken everything away from him.

"Alright. You wanna do this, you're not goin' alone," Shane declared. Daryl blinked, as if the statement confused him.

"Let's take your car, they won't recognize it, " he said. "C'mon."

They got into the car, Daryl still driving. Shane had retrieved his rifle and extra magazine from the Jeep. Daryl had taken one of the dead men's rifles as well. It lay between the front seats, along with a spare pistol

The clean smell of antibacterial soap filed Shane's nostrils in the closed car. Daryl must have slathered it all over his body, and probably his clothing, Shane was thinking.

"You sure you know where to find them?" he ventured after a minute on the road.

"Paid attention to the turns when they took me back," Daryl said softly.

Shane was impressed that he'd kept his wits enough to do that, tied up and beaten, stuffed in a body bag. "Ok, then," he said. "What's the plan?"

"I'm gonna kill' em," Daryl said flatly.

"That ain't a plan, man," Shane said, shaking his head. He knew Daryl was operating on sheer emotion right now. He was starting to wonder if he should try and figure out a way to derail this mission and get them back to the farm. But he couldn't help thinking how this kind of shit almost never got the chance to happen. That a victim got to actually get vengeance on an attacker and get some of their sanity back.

And he had to admit, he had nothing to lose at this point either, now that Rick and Lori were together again. He was on his own. Wouldn't be a bad thing to win a guy like Daryl's loyalty. Besides, the rush he'd gotten from the earlier confrontation with those men he'd taken out was something he wouldn't mind repeating. For the first time since the world had ended, he had felt like he was really in control.

They turned off the road after a while, and he could see Daryl's breathing become heavier as they got closer. He shut off the headlights.

"We almost there?" Shane asked, his heartbeat starting to quicken.

"There's just one more left turn, and then- "

Out of the dark, something smashed the front of the driver's side suddenly, sending the car out of Daryl's control and off the side of the road. The seat belt snapped painfully tight against Shane's chest as the car dipped sharply and collided head on with something hard. Thankfully, no airbags deployed

"Fuck," Daryl was muttering, disattaching his seat belt. He tried to back the car up but they had gone into a muddy ditch it felt like, and the wheels spun uselessly, unable to gather traction.

Shane heard someone approaching the driver side. His pistol was in his hand already. In the moonlight, Shane could slightly make out a large man in a leather jacket. He came right up to Daryl's window, and let out a harsh, startled laugh. "Well, fuck, boy, you come back for more ?"

Shane saw Daryl's right hand move up lightning fast. He took the shot right through the window. The glass shattered and he shot again, and this time the man dropped.

Shane slid out of the passenger door quickly, realizing whoever was out there wouldn't know if there had been anyone else in the car. He took the opportunity to go unnoticed in the dark and have a chance to pick off whoever else might be out there. Daryl was next to him in a heartbeat, both of them taking cover behind the vehicle, not knowing what else was coming.

Shots rang out in the dark, a couple banging the driver's side, making them both flinch. "How many?" Shane whispered." I took out three back there, you got one just now, how many left?"

"Should be three more," Daryl whispered back. He looked steady now, the adrenaline knocking away the fatigue and shock of the trauma. They heard the sound of an accelerating vehicle and instinctively they jumped away from the car as the truck slammed it, crushing it against the telephone pole it had hit.

Shane backed further away from the truck, out of the range of illumination from the headlights, and fired into the passenger side, shattering the window. The return fire drove him to the ground and he hoped Daryl could take advantage of the distraction wherever he was. Another man jumped out of the back seat unexpectedly and took off running into the darkness. Shane had to let him go. He wouldn't be a threat on his own anyway.

The light had sprung on as the door opened and let Shane get a better aim at the passenger window again but before he could fire, there was another shot and the sound of breaking glass, and the truck was barreling backwards towards the other side if the road all of a sudden. The headlights were still on, illuminating Daryl and the leader of the group of scum, thrashing around on the ground amidst the broken glass from the driver window.

The guy had fifty pounds on Daryl, but he was so full of rage and adrenaline that it was almost no contest. For a second, it looked like the guy might get the jump on Daryl but Shane was training his rifle on him, just in case. He couldn't see what had happened to the man's pistol. He knew there was another man in the truck across the way, but he didn't appear to be making any move, either to escape in the truck or to start shooting again. The truck had backed into the ditch on the other side and just stopped, engine still running. Shane hoped it was because some of his shots had actually hit home.

He resisted the urge to intervene on the fight, even as he saw Daryl take a couple of hits to the gut that jolted his whole body at the impact. Finally Daryl got in a punch to the man's head that drove his skull into the ground and Shane knew it wasn't going to be much longer.

The man had stopped moving after a couple more savage punches, but Daryl was still smashing his bare fist down onto the man's ruined face over and over again. His breath was coming in heavy gasps, the noises torn from his throat almost feral. Shane realized the man was dead, or close enough to it, and at this point Daryl was more in danger of destroying his hands on the shattered bone of the man's face.

He moved in and threw his arms around Daryl's waist and chest, hauling him off the man. Daryl struggled frantically against him, fighting irrationally to keep striking, and it took all of Shane's strength to hold onto him, but he did, and after a few seconds, he sagged against him, spent. He felt Daryl's body shudder into sobs. He was barely supporting his own weight, so Shane kept his arms wrapped tightly around his torso, keeping him upright.

"It's ok, it's ok, I got you," he repeated soothingly, as Daryl slowly steadied himself and regained control. When he released him he stumbled away blindly, scrubbing his face with the back of a sleeve.

Shane was moving toward the truck now. He saw through the broken passenger window that the man was slumped forward, his head on the dashboard. The side of his neck was bloody and mangled. He opened the door and the man fell out onto the ground, still and lifeless.

Merle's bike was in the flatbed. He saw Daryl's crossbow in the backseat among other weapons and supplies.

Shane felt a sense of elation as he realized it was over. He could barely believe that they had pulled this off. It seemed surreal. These guys had to have been leaving their base the way their equipment was piled up in the flatbed alongside the bike. Likely scared off after losing three of their men earlier.

Daryl was making his way painfully towards the truck. He was doubling over slightly, and was limping more than before. It brought Shane back to reality, realizing that for Daryl this was only the beginning of a long road to recovery, if he ever even got there.

Shane started brushing the broken glass off the seats as Daryl slumped against the hood. When he finished he went to Daryl to help him into the passenger seat. They would have to take this back, the car Daryl had taken was done and no way was he in any condition to drive, this or the motorcycle.

Daryl didn't even resist the help this time.

The truck was able to struggle out of the shallow ditch and soon they were back on the road, heading back to the farm. The light was starting to change, as dawn approached.

Shane glanced over at Daryl. He was carefully examining his torn and bloody fists, moving his fingers, making sure they weren't broken.

He knew Daryl was perceptive enough that he might figure out that Shane guessed what had happened. He couldn't know for sure, because no way was he gonna bring it up, but he wanted to make sure either way that Daryl knew it didn't matter. God only knew how that kind of thing would've been taken by someone like his brother.

"You're one tough sumbitch, lemme tell you, " Shane said after a minute.

Daryl made a derisive noise in reply, halfway between a snort and a sob.

Shane kept talking, knowing this was something Daryl needed to hear even if he didn't want to yet. "You mightta saved that kid's life, you know that ? You stepped up to protect Glenn and now he's back there safe and healthy. Because of you."

Daryl didn't respond. His head rested against the back of the seat, his eyes closed. But Shane could see from the way his chest was hitching erratically and his lips were fighting not to contort that he was reigning in emotion.

"And you know what else?" he continued. "There are six dead motherfuckers that ain't never gonna do anyone any harm again. That's something to be proud of right now, man. "

"Me and you, we're the only ones gonna be able to keep that group safe, " Shane said, suddenly realizing that this was the truth.

"They ain't my problem," Daryl muttered. He had turned his head away to stare out the broken window.

"Yeah, well, I guess they ain't really my problem anymore, either," Shane sighed, much as it pained him to say it out loud. "But we're gonna do it anyway. Cause there's nothing else we _can_ do. "

He heard Daryl's mumbled "Yeah, " in response after a bit. He sounded resigned, but not defeated.

He clapped a hand on Daryl's shoulder reassuringly as they pulled up in front of the farmhouse. He didn't flinch away this time. The entire group was assembled in the yard. Shane jumped out quickly before they were too alarmed by the unfamiliar vehicle.

"Where did you go?" Rick was asking, his brow creased with worry. "Why didn't you tell anybody you were leaving?"

"Daryl decided those men were just too much of a threat, so he went on after them. I couldn't stop him so I took the ride and we took 'em out. " For the second time in a day he got to enjoy that little bit of awe on Rick's face that he had taken care of business once again. Even though he could tell there was that distrust, that maybe he had gone too far, that maybe all those men shouldn't have been killed. Let him think that, Shane told himself.

He watched Daryl slide carefully out of the truck, grabbing his knapsack and his crossbow out of the backseat. He started limping towards the house, ignoring Glenn's offer of assistance. No one else even dared to bother. As he passed Shane, he paused to look up at him halfway and say in a gravelly whisper, as if he were the only one he trusted with the task, "I need some sleep, don't let nobody fuck with me."

Shane nodded, somewhat moved by that small sign of trust from a man who even before this horrible day wouldn't have been likely to give it. "You got it, man, " he replied softly.


End file.
